


burnt up like the days we lost

by iceberry



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Character Study, M/M, Post-Canon, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-29 00:23:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20787515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iceberry/pseuds/iceberry
Summary: Lio’s cold. He’s always cold now.





	burnt up like the days we lost

When the Promare flares out one last time, Lio knows what they’re telling him. He knows it the same way he’s always known what they say, more in feelings and a language of images than in human words.

_Thank you_, as the flames speed across the earth. _ Fulfilled, burning, complete, fulfilled, farewell _. As he floats, Lio feels his arm pulled forward by the fire, almost from the inside out. He lets it. Why would he try and fight the fire now? He watches as one last flame flickers out from his fingers, hovers in his hand for a moment, then disappears. For a moment, Lio feels at peace in a way he hasn’t in years - maybe his whole life, certainly not since his Burnish spasms began. And then he realizes his fire is gone.

He’s cold. He’s always cold now, and it’s as if picking up the pieces of a ruined city (and his own life) wasn’t distressing enough, Lio can’t even go through a day of cleanup work without remembering that something’s missing. Some of the other Burnish feel it too at first, especially Meis and Gueira, but it seems to fade after a few days or weeks, so he drops it. Despite it all, they still look to him as a leader, and they have enough to deal with and work through without worrying about him. Not talking about it doesn’t stop the bursts of shivering that hits him every few hours, even when it’s hot out and he’s working in the sun. Lio quickly gets good at slipping away and ducking into alleys when they start.

He leans against a wall and rubs at his arms, willing his hands to warm up and the tremors to end before someone notices he’s gone.

“Are you sick?” Aina asks, sliding up next to him from out of nowhere. Lio still doesn’t know her well, but like the rest of Burning Rescue, she’s been nice, if a little distant to him. He’s not surprised by the distance - if anything, is surprised that they’ve been so welcoming when he’s made it clear how unrepentant he is for the years of fires. “We’re grateful for your help, but if you have a fever-”

“No, I’m fine,” he says curtly, and stands up straight, hands at his sides. Controlling the shivering is more effort than it should be, but he manages it for long enough that he can get away from Aina before she asks any more questions or goes to get someone else.

It’s worse at night. He piles blankets on top of himself when he tosses and turns on the couch in Galo’s apartment, enough to bury him. Sometimes he’ll wake up from his half-sleeps sweating with damp hair stuck to his forehead, but still freezing. One of these nights he pushes the blankets off of himself and to the floor, and rummages through Galo’s cabinets till he can find a thermometer. 

_ 37 degrees _, the light blinks up at him from the slim screen. “Normal,” he mutters under his breath. Normal, like a normal human. 5 degrees colder than the last time he had his temperature taken.

It makes for a good enough excuse the first time he slips into Galo’s bed at night. It’s before the dolt’s realized that of course Lio isn’t going to look for his own apartment but before they’ve had any real conversation about what they are (a conversation that Lio keeps telling himself he’s just putting off because they’ve been so busy and not because of nerves). Galo doesn’t wake up when Lio slides under the covers behind him, draping his arm over Galo’s side and pulling him as close as possible. With Galo’s back pressed against his chest, Lio can feel his body heat. He imagines himself drawing the warmth into his own limbs. It helps a little.

It’s not enough.

Galo catches him holding a lit match under his fingers, wincing but not pulling back as the flame brushes against his skin. The tips begin to blister before Galo walks in the room, sees him, and shouts something - Lio doesn’t catch the words he’s so fixated on the flame. He grabs Lio’s wrist, probably rougher than he intended. The match flies out of his hand, and the blond watches as it arcs elegantly across the kitchen and lands on the tile floor. The head of the match flares for a second, then goes out, and the light scent of smoke fills the kitchen.

“What are you doing?”

“Let go,” Lio responds, and pulls his arm away from Galo.

“Fire can hurt you now,” Galo says dumbly, and Lio fixes him with a steely glare. 

“I know that. You know it too. That’s not new information.”

“Then why-”

“Because I’m cold, Galo. I'm cold all the time.” The firefighter stares back at him wide-eyed for a second; he sits in the chair next to him, and starts to reach out to take Lio’s hand in his own before Lio pulls it back and cradles it in his unburnt hand.

“Then we’ll go to Lucia, she can make something that will help!” Lio doesn’t look up at Galo and instead focuses on his fingers, stares at the burns like there’s something mysterious he’s trying to figure out about them. There isn’t, they’re just normal burns. Second-degree probably. Ones he’s seen on other humans a thousand times, usually from his own flames. They hurt more than he thought they would. Not deadly, but at least third-degree burns damage the nerves and ease the pain. “Like… a coat that’s heated or something. She’ll know what to make.” 

_ Idiot_, Lio thinks, and finally looks up from investigating the red, painful skin on his hands to meet Galo’s concerned eyes. His chest tightens at Galo’s expression, open and upset. _ Stupid, sweet, worried idiot. _ “It’s not something one of Lucia’s inventions can fix.”

Most of the time, now that he’s not fighting for his survival and the survival of hundreds of others, Lio doesn’t feel weak without his fire. He doesn’t need to be that strong anymore, which he knows should be a relief in its own way. And his mind is clearer now that the voices telling him to _ burn burn more burn more _are gone. But he has moments where he wonders if maybe he wouldn’t have helped the Promare burn the Earth down if he knew it would leave him feeling like this. He weighs trying to explain the sensation to Galo - how the cold isn’t like a brisk wind against his skin or ice freezing his hands together. The closest feeling he can come up with is the way Vulcan’s bullet felt in his chest, but even if the pain is less, it’s counterbalanced by the fact that it’s not something he can rip out. It comes from an empty space that he didn’t even know was filled, because he’s never known anything else. 

“We don’t know that unless we try,” Galo says, and he’s so _ earnest _ and foolishly hopeful and genuine in his words that Lio can feel his expression soften despite everything. The firefighter reaches out to take his burnt hand, and Lio lets him take it this time.

“Yeah,” he says, knowing it’s foolish to hope that the feeling will go away and that he’ll warm up. But it’s hard not to get caught up in Galo’s foolishness sometimes. “I guess we don’t.” 

“So we’ll try!”

“Alright.” 

**Author's Note:**

> about to go see this movie in theatres for the 3rd time in a week on sunday so sometimes you just go absolutely fuckin feral and write 1k words about being cold
> 
> title from it's alright now by bombay bicycle club bc i've never written an original title in my life


End file.
